


Drones Concept Story

by Thatcrazyfangirlwhohasnolife



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Dystopian, Gen, Muse - Freeform, drones, inspired by muse album
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatcrazyfangirlwhohasnolife/pseuds/Thatcrazyfangirlwhohasnolife
Summary: Brought up with no love from his family, Elliot Ambrose has always been introverted and separate from society. But when he is thrust into the hands of the government, he realises that he has a bigger part to play in the world he lives in than he thought. And with his Mother at the heart of the corrupt system, he knows that something has to be done, because nothing ever ends well when his psychopathic Mother is controlling everything. 
But when it gets down to the centre of the problem, sometimes doing the right thing doesn't always save as many people as Elliot thought it would. And the lines between right and wrong begin blur together until they hold no meaning anymore. For Elliot, all he ever wanted was a normal life, and a loving family. If the world hadn't given him one, then he would have to fight to make a world where he has a new loving family, and no world changing decisions placed solely upon him.
This is a piece of concept writing based off the album Drones by the band Muse. It is my interpretation of what happens within the story of the album. I always love feedback, so feel free to like or comment on it!





	1. Present Day

All around me, I can only see three colours- black, grey and shades of red. Dark red, which has been mixed with black dirt, bright cherry red, which has been freshly drawn, and the red that coats my hands, mixing in with the grey dust that caked my hands before the red. The colour stains my hands, but it’s not like it’s going to make much of a difference in a few moments. Because there’s not much left for me in this world, and a little bit of red liquid can’t cause me anymore pain that I’m already feeling at this moment. The world revolves around me now. I can’t change much, but one simple act is enough to end everything on here.

I don’t want to look down. I know who's below me, who’s head I’m cradling in my hands. But I can’t look down at her. If I do, I know it’ll only cement everything I’ve guessed. I’ll willingly suspend my disbelief of what has happened to the desolate world I’ve lived on for now.

Before I do anything else, though, I want to remember what I’ve been through. At the end of the world, it’s only fitting that the last thoughts are the ones of somebody who has been through the worst of it, and still managed to survive until the end. The thoughts of someone who was victim to all the horrors of the world, but pushed through. It makes me sound like a hero.

I’m not a hero.

I’m a boy who acted heroic to try to save the world, but in the end, it’s destruction was inevitable. I helped cause this, with heroic motives, but I still caused this. Maybe if I did something else, if I tried harder at the end, maybe if I changed a few parts of my life, I wouldn’t be sitting in a pool of crimson liquid, with clearer, even more painful liquid falling from the sides of my eyes. Maybe. 

I’ll tell my story to the silence of the world. There isn’t much else to do anymore.

 


	2. Part I- Dead Inside (Chapter 1)

As a young five year old, it’s often very haunting to listen in to your parents conversations, especially when they’re parents who do not get on well at all. I often suspected that their marriage was one of convenience, or trickery on one half. There was nothing similar about the two of them at all, no common interest to draw them together, nothing. It couldn’t be called a love story, what they had between them, because there wasn’t any love by this point. I suspect now that I was the only thing that kept them together for so long.

From the few things that I remember about them, I do think that my Dad used to be completely and utterly in love with her. Yet again, I have no idea why he would be, but they still tried (and failed) to create a family together. The problem with my Dad loving my Mother was that she was a psychopath, and literally couldn’t feel any love towards anybody. My father was a rich man, a very rich man, and he came from an old historical family, who naturally had a lot of wealth. He went to the best school he could’ve gone to, and did quite well there, especially in history and Latin, his two old loves, other than my Mother.

And this was where he met her. She was very much more interested in politics, maths, science, and business studies. She came from a very poor family, but was especially clever and managed to get a scholarship to the best school in the country. Not having much of a family, the distance wasn’t a bother to her, and she happily went and made the best out of the situation that she could’ve done. I reckon that this was when my father first began to fall in love with her.

He admired her, as whilst he was an average student, she shone beyond anything else he could’ve dreamed of being. He was more attracted to her cleverness, her credentials, and the thought of her than anything else. It did also help that my Mother was very beautiful in her prime. Beauty and brains made the perfect person for my Dad to fall head over heels in love with.

While he may not have been the most attractive person, or the brainiest, he was certainly one of the richest people in the year, so when my Mother found out about his crush on her, she planned to use it to her advantage. Whilst she had the brains for politics, he had the other thing needed to be successful in that field- money. With him on her side, she would finally be able to flourish, and so she pretended to be in love with him for this reason.

I never understood what I heard from my parents final argument, not until I was a lot older. All I understood was that my Mother was telling my Dad that she hadn’t ever loved him, which hadn’t shocked me at the time, because all she ever did was spend time at work, away from both him and her. The few things she wanted from life was success, and an heir to her now big fortune. By the time my parents split, she had both of them, taking half of my Dad’s riches, and trying to take me with her.

However, my Dad didn’t want everything taken from him, and threatened to make a massive fuss out of the ordeal if she didn’t agree to let him keep me. At the time, her presidential campaign was at its peak, and she knew that bad publicity could make or break her campaign, so she decided to let go of me, and put her job first. After all, she was a psycho with no feelings for anybody except herself. 

With her contacts, and the way politics is always lying to everybody, she managed to play the victim, making up tales of abuse from my Dad, and how he used to hit her when she was forced to go to work. She was restricted with him, and couldn’t escape from fear that he would tell everybody lies about her. Some well edited footage of her ‘proved’ that she had many bruises on her at various different occasions, that somehow nobody had noticed yet, and my Dad was sent out of her home, along with me, forgotten by the media and now both of my parents.

That ended the happiest period of my life. Whilst I had been forced to live with my slightly abusive yet 'victim' of a Mother, it was definitely better that my life turned out to be afterwards. At least before, in the day my Dad would be with me, and with his riches, my naturally quick and smart brain, he raised me to be clever, but with a sense of fun and happiness in my life. I had everything that I could want, except maybe a few friends that I could’ve done with. Something about having a psychopath of a Mother tended to leave me not wanting too many friends and others not wanting to become my friends either.

That, however, didn’t bother me, as I had my Dad to play with, and to laugh with, to share ice creams and happy memories with. But once my Mother left us, my Dad became a shell of what he used to be. He wouldn’t smile at anything again, and being a young, naive five year old, I used to throw tantrums and complain about him not playing with me anymore. We moved out of town, to a secluded and poorer town, and I joined the local comprehensive, where I was punished for my smart and witty replies to the teachers, and when I went back home, I had no Dad to cry on, or laugh off my pain with.

I think it was the fact that Mother told him, with no regrets or sadness, that she’d never loved him that threw my Dad off completely. He’d have gotten through the sadness if she’d just fallen out of love with him, but it was murderous to tell him that she’d never truly loved him at all. All his life, the thing that gave him the most happiness had been a fake, so he never learned to love again. And since then, that’s all I’ve known. A broken family without love.

It wasn’t too bad to begin with. My Dad was still able to function, even though he didn’t laugh or have a job. He had enough money to keep us going, so for a lot of the time, he just bought what we needed for the week, and sat back down in his chair, staring off into space and seemingly doing nothing. It was hard for me, but when I first realised that he didn’t mind me taking his money, I took full advantage of the opportunity. I got myself enough nice things to go in my bedroom, before I began to feel a little guilty about all of it, and decided to stop.

However, one thing I never regretted buying was my computer. It was one of the latest models, and every few years, I would buy the next upgraded version of it. Whilst there were a lot of things that I could’ve done on my computer, things that many would get told off for, I had free will over what I did because my Dad simply didn’t care. I could’ve thrown my life away to becoming addicted to stupid things on the internet, yet I didn’t. Something about the fact that this was rebellious put me off doing it. I’d already done something bad by using my Dad’s money to buy the computer, so all I used it for was sad things like reading up on subjects, and improving my learning.

In the summer holidays, I would stay up late on it, scouring the internet for courses in different fields, my favourites being maths and the sciences, English and surprisingly all about food. Since my Dad didn’t do much, I had to throw myself into the life of a chef at a young age, and over time, I managed to work on my skills, and learn quite a bit about how to make the food I made taste very nice. I also took a very quick interest into computing, and how many different languages there were, and was fascinated by all that I could learn. I found myself making my way through all of the material that I found, and started to code my own things, learning more as I tested out my own website and how the world online worked.

School felt like a breeze for me after all of the work I did online. I couldn’t really be bothered with school, so I did my work, and stared off into space, leaving the building as soon as I could. My teachers were perplexed by what I had become. For someone who was as clever and brainy as I was, they didn’t understand why I didn’t like school so much, and why I was so eager to leave. They knew who my Mother was, so they didn’t dare to touch me or ask me about anything regarding the issues, but they knew something was off. I never made any friends in my time, and used to practically refuse to do any group or pair work.

Every few years, they would try to prompt me to go to therapy, or test me for autism. They thought that was the problem with me, that I was autistic, or just severely depressed with social anxiety. As a child, I was often mistooken for a mute, yet when we began to learn French and other languages, I finally opened up, and shocked the teachers with my language skills. The internet had amazing lessons for beginners on languages, and being able to watch videos meant that I easily picked up accents, and shot to the top in those classes.

When I had to narrow down my subjects for which I wanted to take exams in, I signed up for all of them that I enjoyed, which was a long list by the time I was 13. At the comprehensive school, they only recommended that you took five or six subjects, yet I signed up for English, Maths, Chemistry (a special love for me, explosions were exciting!), Physics, Biology (I was the only one who could stand bisecting hearts), Computing, Food Technology, French, Russian (honestly, it was relatively easy to pick up online) and PE, wanting to keep up my physical health at the same time. When the teachers had come to me to try to ask me to chose a smaller number, as it was hard for them to make a timetable for me with all of them included, I simply told them that I was capable of doing them all, so would do the exam, with or without lessons.

Eventually, they let me do what I had originally wanted to do, and didn’t bother me anymore. I went to every class I could, and caught up on any work I inevitably missed online. It went this way for a while, and whilst I wasn’t worried about much, I was always worried about my Dad.

I always worry about my Dad because he wasn’t able to cope by himself any longer. He did no shopping for food, and barely left his chair. Over the past few years, he’d developed a hacking cough that wouldn’t go away, and all through the night, all I could hear was him coughing, preventing me from sleeping both physically and emotionally, kept up with worry for him. I knew that without me around, he couldn’t last longer that a few days, especially as I now had to bring him his own drinks after he nearly collapsed having not drunk anything for two days. The worst part about it all was that he never even cried. Mother had left us broken, and had caused Dad to stop showing any emotion at all, even remorse.

At least if he cried, I could tell that there was still something left inside him. Now, it seemed like his soul had been taken out of him, and he had no emotions left. It was worse seeing him like this than seeing him brawling on the floor at three AM.


End file.
